Life's Flame
by Quadrantje
Summary: Life of those left behind can be tough what kind of impact did the three major events have on those back home? Hints of JC.


A few weeks ago, I went to Margraten with my school. We visited the cemetery there, which is the resting place (or monumental resting place) for a lot of American soldiers who died defending our country (the Netherlands) during the Second World War. It's one of the places president Bush visited just a few weeks before us while he was in Europe to remember WWII. The place made quite an impact on me and I vowed to write a story in honour of it, so I would always be reminded of the brave soldiers who fought and died for a country they didn't even know and an enemy that wasn't really their own and for those who were left behind. This is that story.  
The poems at the beginning come from the monuments at Margraten and are not my own; I have merely put them there, because as my inspiration, what kept the memory of those rows and rows of white crosses clearly in my mind, they need be mentioned and I could not simply refer to them as I would a song.

**Disclaimer: **The rights to 'Star Trek: Voyager' do not belong to me, nor do those of the poems. I do not gain anything from writing or posting this, except my own enjoyment and perhaps even that of my readers. No infringement of copyright is intended.

To you from failing hands we throw the torch  
Be yours to hold it high

Each for his own memorial  
Earned praise that will never die  
And with it  
The grandest of all sepulchres  
Not that in which  
His mortal bones are laid  
But a home  
In the minds of men

Here we and all who shall  
Hereafter live in freedom  
Will be reminded that  
To these men and their comrades  
We owe a dept to be paid  
With grateful remembrance  
Of their sacrifice  
And with high resolve  
That the cause  
For which they died shall live

Honor is theirs who knew the path of honor

New life from war's destruction proclaims  
Men's immortality and hope for peace

"We are gathered here today to remember the brave people of the USS Voyager, who gave their lives in the service of Starfleet. Although no remains have been found, we can only assume that, in their quest to protect the Federation from the treacherous rebels known as the Maquis, they paid the ultimate prize. They will always be remembered for the brave officers they were and those they left behind will always keep a fire burning in their hearts for them. May they sleep peacefully in unknown places." Tears, as though they were fine jewellery, sparkled brightly in the eyes of many onlookers and they had even been set in Admiral Paris' voice while he gave his short speech. The loss of his only son had touched him deeply, tearing great lacerations in his usually stoic Admiral's mask. As he left the small stage, the wife of his late friend Edward rose from her chair on the first row and headed for him. Wet trails adorned the path the watery diamonds had made on the face of the petite woman and her hair seemed darker grey than usual, as if it too was in mourning. Behind her, sad-faced people quietly left the long lines of seats to leave and grieve for their lost ones in private.

"When she changed to command track, I always feared I'd loose her like this, but it still hurts so much. My little Katie, always so strong and able to take on anything, dead." New tears followed in their sisters' footprints.

"I know. My Tom didn't even know how much I love him. He probably died with the thought that his own father hated him."

"I'm sure he knows how proud you are of him, just like Kathryn knows how proud Edward and I have always been of her." A pause ensued, in which they both reflected on their lost children.

"Would you like to have dinner with me and Anne tonight, Gretchen? Misery loves company, you know."

"No thank you, maybe another time, Owen. Give Anne my sympathies and do take care."

"You too, Gretchen." The Admiral watched as Mrs Janeway made her way through the door of the Memorial Room before leaving it himself. Outside, he let his own tears fall freely. For just a few moments, he let himself be the father who'd said goodbye to his own son for the last time, instead of a Starfleet Admiral. Then, he pulled up his command mask and straightened his back, walking into the grieving building again to hold the eulogy for the crew of the USS Market Garden, another ship and crew lost in the fight to defend the Federation.

_**- -("LF")- -**_

"Hello, Anne." 

"Hello, Gretchen, it's so nice to have you here again. Come on in." Anne moved aside to let Gretchen pass and then closed the door of the old manor that had been in the Paris family for years. "Owen is all ready to start dinner and, when it comes to Kunarian steak, it's best not to keep him waiting."

"Oh, I know that!" Gretchen laughed as she remembered the 'barbeque incident'. "We'd better hurry up!" Anne chuckled along with Gretchen while they went to the dining room. There, Owen welcomed Gretchen with a smile and hugged her for a moment, though he didn't relinquish his hold on the large meat knife.

"Why don't you sit down?" Owen made a grand welcoming gesture to the richly stocked table and hurriedly sat down behind the large dish with steak, leaving the women to sit across from each other. "Ah, how much steak do you want?" He was already cutting off a large piece and dropped it on her plate. "Here, a nice big piece, after all, we do have something to celebrate!" The women shared a smile over Owen's behaviour, which paid a striking resemblance to that of a little boy who finally gets to unwrap his Christmas presents. When he had cut all of them a generous piece of Kunarian steak, Gretchen returned to his original comment.

"You're right, Owen, we do have something to celebrate." Her tone of voice had gone from joking to serious. "It's not every day you hear that the child you thought was dead is still alive! We should have a real celebration; maybe have a party for all of the family members."

"That's a good idea, Gretchen." Owen nodded while biting a mouthful of meat off his fork and chewing on it thoughtfully. "I'll have a talk with some other Admirals. After all, it is a special occasion for Starfleet too: the first exploration of the Delta Quadrant. And with the war, all our ships are valuable, never mind a prototype like Voyager! I'm sure I can persuade them to celebrating the occasion."

"Good. I do think everyone needs a small pick-me-up after this rather bumpy mental shuttle flight. To learn that they're alive, but stranded in some godforsaken Quadrant!" Anne shook her head worriedly and stared into her wine. "And then when they didn't respond anymore. No, I'll be very happy when my Tommy is safely back home." None of them really reacted to Anne's dubbing of Tom Paris as her 'Tommy', after all, Gretchen still called her daughter 'Katie'.

"It was quite the ride, wasn't it? You are sure that it was the communications network that failed and not Voyager who was destroyed?" Gretchen asked, arriving to the question which had been haunting her ever since Voyager failed to respond to their letters.

"Well, we can't be sure Voyager wasn't damaged too, but we do know for certain that the communications network was destroyed. We just don't know how, so there's no telling what happened to Voyager. We'll just have to wait for Voyager to contact us again." Realizing how gloomy he sounded, Owen quickly looked at it more positively. "But I'm sure they're still alive; Kathryn never was one for getting herself blown up. If there was a way they survived, you bet your credits on it she found it!"

"She always was a lot like Edward." Gretchen said, glowing with pride for her eldest daughter. "He would have been so proud of her. You are going to make her an Admiral when she returns, right?"

Owen chuckled. "I'll sure try to! If anyone deserves it, it's her. Can you imagine that she managed to get them twenty light-years closer in just four years? That alone should get her an admiralty!" The cheery mood prevailed for the rest of the evening and laughter and jokes were exchanged over the light of slowly sinking candles, while underneath, small strings of worry held strong to their hearts.

**_- -("LF")- -_**

"So, what do you think of the addition to your family?" Owen, Anne and Gretchen were standing together, looking over to the table a few metres away where the senior staff was seated. They were looking quite happy and every now and then would toss a look around at the rest of the party.

"Well," she said with a small meaningful smile. "What can I say? She does love him and it's obvious by the looks he sends her that she's the centre of his universe. I couldn't really be against that, now could I?"

"You're absolutely right, as always." Owen concurred. "They do seem really happy together. But I can say the same about Tom and B'Elanna, Gretchen."

Anne took over while Owen picked a glass of champagne off one of the trays the waiters were carrying around. "And we even got a grandchild! Don't you think Miral's just adorable, Gretchen?"

"She is a beautiful child. And she looks a lot like her mother! I just hope Chakotay can get my Katie to think about having children, I'm gonna grow old and grey without a grandchild if I'd have to wait for her to think about it!" Gretchen shook her already grey-haired head as she thought about it.

"I hate to tell you, Gretchen," Owen said, looking anything but sorry. "But you're already old and grey, just like the two of us." He grinned for a moment, until he received a sharp poke from his wife.

"Speak for yourself, you big brute! I may be grey, but I'm certainly not old!" She remarked. The threesome chuckled good naturally and Gretchen used the opportunity to take another look at her daughter, who was looking relaxed happy, talking animatedly with the rest of the senior staff while casting the occasional loving look at the man sitting next to her. The worry for her little girl that had been poignant in her mind ever since she learned Kathryn was still alive flickered and died, making room for an all consuming pride and love.

_**Epilogue**_

While the party was still in full swing, Kathryn and Chakotay quietly slipped out the door and made their way to Starfleet Academy, just a few blocks away. Though the building itself was of course closed at this hour, the grounds were still accessible. With silent precision, they walked through the maze of flowerbeds and plants until they reached the garden's newest fountain. Instead of water, the large basin was filled with a reddish substance that seemed to be somewhere in between liquid and gas. It shone brightly, illuminating the list of names that were engraved in a plaque in the middle of the fountain. It were the names of every single Voyager or Liberty crewmember that had died in the Delta Quadrant, whether he be Starfleet or Maquis, Delta Quadrant native or not. Above the inscriptions was a passage, carved in delicate lettering:

_To you from failing hands we throw the torch  
Be yours to hold it high_

Above the tablet was the actual fountain, a torch, spewing out the vibrant red liquid in a flame of sparkles. With arms wrapped around each other and their faces illuminated with the red glow of the fountain, Kathryn and Chakotay eyed the fountain, each mourning for the people the names represented.

**_Fine_**


End file.
